


Tutoring

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 23:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17907791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: There is a gap in your education.





	Tutoring

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote in 30 mins before going to work after reading this message: "Uuuh just read a western novel where the cowboy teaches his inexperienced bride how to kiss. Now I want Arthur to teach me how to kiss. Life is cruel."

“It’s embarassing! At my age…”

“What?”

“I ain’t never kissed anyone! I don’t even know how….”

Arthur turns his head to look at you, but you’re apparently too focused on the bottle in your hands to see it.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” he says without thinking.

_That_ catches your attention; your head whips toward him, and there’s anger in your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap, and he holds up his hands in a soothing gesture.

“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, it’s just - “ he grapples for the words that will calm you, blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind. “You’re beautiful; surprised me, is all.”

The words stun you into silence, and you see him blush, quickly looking away and lowering his hands to his knees, gripping tight as his leg bounces nervously.

_Arthur, you goddamn fool…_

The silence stretches on, intolerable, and he’s about to stand and take his leave - he doubts you’ll ever want to speak to him again after what just happened, anyway -, but you speak before he can move.

“Will you teach me?”

Your voice is small and shy, without a hint of humour or malice, but he laughs all the same, so ludicrous is the idea; as if anyone would ever want him to kiss them.

His eyes flick to you, and his laughter dies on his lips - he’s never seen you more serious. He looks down at the bottle in your hands.

“You’re drunk,” he breathes, his mouth dry, his tongue heavy - he knows you’re not; you’ve barely been drinking for half an hour. But his racing mind needs to find a good reason as to why you would say such a thing - he can’t bear the idea that you’re mocking him; not  _you_.

“I ain’t,” you reply, putting the bottle down at your feet. You sigh resignedly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Just say you don’t wanna, it’s fine.”

“It’s not that, it’s - “ The words rush out of his mouth before he can hold them, and he feels himself flush again as he looks away.  _God dammit_.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you look up at him again, and there’s a smile on your lips -  _a smile_? You slide closer to him along the length of the bench you’re sharing, allowing your shoulder to bump into his, and he can’t help but look at you then.  _Jesus_ , you’re close, and your lips have never seemed more inviting, turned up toward him like this, half-parted.

“Please, Arthur?” you ask softly, and he huffs out a breath, feeling the heat in his cheeks spread down through his neck to reach his chest, wrapping tightly around his heart - for the first time in years, he feels  _wanted_.

“If you’re sure,” he whispers in answer.

You smile comfortingly, bringing one hand to curl around his lightly.

“I am.”


End file.
